


Pandemonium

by spowell Once and Future Series (SPowell)



Series: Once and Future [23]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Attempted Assault, Drugging, M/M, non-con, post canon au, post episode 5x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1832170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/spowell%20Once%20and%20Future%20Series
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is put through the wringer. Again.<br/>**************************************************<br/>Read the following warning only if you have specific triggers related to non-con and want to find out if you want to read this chapter or not:<br/>Wolff drugs Arthur's drink and takes him up to his hotel room with the intent of raping him. He does not rape him, but the fact that it's from Arthur's pov may make this very triggery for some folks.<br/>**************************************************<br/>Disclaimer: the characters herein belong to BBC, Shine, and legend. I do not own them or make money off this endeavor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pandemonium

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this series is now being posted under a pseud, which you will find to the left of my page. (The pseud is merely spowell Once and Future series. I did it in order to keep the page in order.)
> 
> Contains the Camelot_land challenge #16 the weekly one (7) prompt: investigate.
> 
> Sorry for picking on Arthur again. It's Wolff's fault.

Arthur watches Wolff warily as he tells the waiter what to bring.

“Sounds like you’re ordering for a dozen people,” he comments after the waiter leaves.

“I’m sure you worked up an appetite with the sword.” Wolff leans forward a little. “I know I’m hungry, and my scenes weren’t half as physical as yours. I’ll admit, I’ve watched you out there a time or two, Arthur. Very impressive.”

“Thanks,” Arthur says, smiling as the waiter puts a beer in front of him. He idly sips it. “I really do appreciate this opportunity---I don’t want you to think otherwise. But ever since you kissed me that night, I’ve felt a little uncomfortable around you, Wolff.”

Wolff reaches over and pats Arthur’s hand where it rests on the table. “What happened to calling me Dirk? And please don’t feel uncomfortable. Believe me, your boyfriend set me straight on the phone, and I get it. I really just want us to be friends.” He takes a sip of his wine.

Arthur relaxes a little. “Good, then. As long as we’re straight on that. I hadn’t meant to give you the idea that I might be interested.”

“You didn’t. I’m just used to taking what I like, I suppose.” Dirk leans back in his chair and flashes his white teeth.

The waiter brings their salads and talk turns to filming. Arthur orders one more beer, but cuts it off there; he has no intention of getting inebriated—he learned his lesson about that after the incident in the club loo. Although he’s now able to hold his alcohol fairly well, he usually sticks to beer, which doesn’t seem to affect him as much as mixed drinks.

Arthur thought so, anyway, until midway into his second beer when he starts to feel a bit light-headed. Dirk’s chatting about something—an upcoming film, Arthur thinks as he takes another bite of steak, the foggy feeling in his head only getting worse.

“Something wrong, Arthur?”

Arthur shakes his head, trying to clear it. “Just feeling a little dizzy.”

“It’s hot in here, maybe that’s it,” Wolff says. “Do you want to try the cheese cake after this? It’s delicious here.” His voice buzzes in Arthur’s ears.

Suddenly Dirk’s closer, peering into Arthur's face, eyes concerned.

“Not feeling well? You do look pasty all of a sudden.”

“W-woozy,” Arthur answers, the word coming out slurred. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him; he’s suddenly uncoordinated and drops his knife and fork.  His heart pounds. “Was…something wrong with the beer?”

“I don’t think so,” Wolff says. “Here, let me help you up. You need to go to bed.” He gently puts his shoulder under Arthur’s arm and begins to lead him from the dining room. Arthur’s feet feel like lead weights are attached to them, and his head lolls on his neck. The place seems deserted. How late is it?

Wolff takes him onto the lift.

“I hate the lift,” Arthur says, his words coming out in a distorted whisper that echoes in his head.

“What’s that?” Dirk takes Arthur’s cheeks between his fingers and lifts his face. “You’re not making a lot of sense, sweetheart.”

Arthur’s mind tenses, but his body is out of his control. He thinks of Merlin—where is he? Who is this guy standing so close to him, again? Arthur struggles to remember, as well as to plainly make out the face hovering before him.

“You have the prettiest lips, you know that, angel? You’re so lovely. I can’t wait to see you without all these clothes.”

Arthur isn’t sure he heard that right. The lift moves upward, the light above the doors flashing. There’s a railing sticking him in the back where someone props him up. _Wolff_ , that’s right.

“Need t’go… to- to m’room,” Arthur slurs.

“That’s right. What you need is a nice bed to lie down on.”

This is all right. Everything’s fine. Arthur is in the hotel with Wolff, and Wolff is going to help Arthur to bed. Vaguely Arthur wonders if he could have heat stroke—it had been awfully hot out during filming. Didn’t someone have it the other day? He can’t remember. He makes a frustrated sound.

When Wolff ushers Arthur down the hall and opens the suite door, Arthur realizes something isn’t right.

“This…thishissn’t my room,” Arthur says, knees buckling.

Wolff helps Arthur onto the bed, and it feels so nice and so good. One shoe comes off, then the other, and next his socks. When Arthur feels his flies fiddled with, he opens his eyes.

“Wait…wait a minute.” He pushes Wolff’s hand away.

“Now, Arthur, you don’t want to sleep in those trousers, do you? Don’t you want to be comfortable?” Wolff’s voice is light and friendly, and Arthur tries to force his mind to _think_.

Something is wrong. He’s drunk like that other time in the club, when that man pushed him to his knees. He needs to get away. Weakly, Arthur begins to struggle, but it’s like moving through dough.

“No,” he croaks. “N-no.”

Wolff strokes Arthur’s hair. “Relax, I’m helping you.”

Wolff. Wolff is a friend, not the guy in the club. His hands are gentle, not rough and abusive. Something’s happened…Arthur’s not drunk like that other time; he feels much stranger.

“I think—I think I need a physician,” Arthur manages to rasp out, head spinning. He reaches for Wolff’s collar and grabs a handful of shirt instead. Wolff’s cologne is strong and makes Arthur’s stomach turn.

“If I can just get your clothes off, I think you’ll be feeling better soon,” Wolff placates as he unbuttons Arthur’s shirt. Is Wolff kissing Arthur’s chest, or is Arthur just imagining it? He struggles to see, but everything’s a blur.

His mobile goes off.

“My mob’le. My mob’le…let me h’vit.” Arthur makes a grabby hand in the air.

“I don’t think you need to talk right now,” Wolff says, fishing Arthur’s mobile out of his trousers. “Oh, look. It’s Merlin.” The phone stops ringing, and Arthur blinks. He always talks to Merlin before bed. He tries again to reach out for his mobile, but his hand isn’t working properly anymore.

“Mer’in.”

“I’m afraid he’s rung off,” Dirk says, pulling at Arthur’s shirt to get it off. “Come on, Arthur, you can help me just a little, can’t you? I’m all a’tingle to see what’s inside those pants.”

The mobile begins to ring again, and Wolff sighs. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Hello? Merlin? No, he’s busy right now.”

Arthur tries very hard to make a sound loud enough to be heard, but it’s impossible. The cool air of the room hits his naked skin, and a trickle of apprehension runs through him.

“Arthur and I want to become better acquainted. No need to yell, Merlin! Yes, I remember what you said, and now I say fuck off.” Wolff pulls the phone away from his ear, and using every bit of his energy, Arthur makes a swipe for it, managing to knock it out of Wolff’s hand and onto the floor.

“Arthur, control yourself, dear. I’ll be fucking you shortly,” Wolff casually retrieves the mobile and puts it back to his ear. Arthur tries to roll off the bed, but Wolff easily pushes him back.

Arthur hears Merlin’s voice then, but it doesn’t matter because Wolff’s turning the mobile off and then suddenly his lips are pressed to Arthur’s, and although Arthur’s hands are between them, he can’t manage to push the man off. A buzz sets up in his brain that’s getting louder and louder with every breath he takes. He clamps his mouth shut and manages to turn his face away, and Wolff begins to curse at him.

Then all pandemonium breaks lose. A noise like an explosion rocks the room, and a burst of air whips past as something sails through the air. Arthur manages to move his head enough to see two blazing eyes coming toward them, and then it’s all just noise because, try as he might, Arthur can’t keep his eye lids open enough to see.

“I will _kill_ you!” Merlin’s voice, shaking with fury, fills the room.

But how could Merlin be there?

Wolff jabbers about Merlin needing to get a hold of himself, and that adults will sometimes have dalliances…

“What have you done to him?” Merlin roars. “What’s wrong with him? Tell me now, you pompous piece of pond scum, before I rip your balls from your body with my bare hands!”

A distinct whimper.

Arthur cannot move a muscle at this point; he can’t even lift his smallest finger, and it’s terrifying. He tries to call out for Merlin, but it's useless.

There are more voices, and a lot of yelling that blends into one obnoxious buzz as Arthur slowly succumbs to the sensation of being buried under mounds of wet sand. He floats just on the edge of consciousness for a long time, going in and out, catching snippets of conversation that don’t seem real. The last thing he remembers is many hands moving him onto another mattress and someone asking if he knows his name.

***

When Arthur becomes fully aware, he’s relieved to find he can move again. Opening his eyes, he blinks at an unfamiliar ceiling. Not his hotel room in New Zealand, and not home. Where is he? He turns his head, weak and thirsty.

“Hi, mate.”

Arthur blinks. “Doug?”

The big man hands him a cup of water with a straw and helps him to drink.

“Glad you’ve come out of it. I’ll just get the doctor.” He starts to rise from the chair he’s sitting in.

“Wait.” Arthur puts out a hand to stop him. It’s shaking.

“Did you…did you save me from, uh,” he tries to remember. What happened?

“No, mate, that was your fiancé who did that. All I heard was the door was knocked right off its hinges and landed across the room, and something about Wolff’s nuts being crammed into his abdomen.” Doug winces. “Your bloke must have one sharp knee. I didn’t even know he was in town; why didn’t you tell me?”

Arthur frowns and doesn’t answer.

Doug pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll go get the doc. And I’ll tell your bloke that yer awake. I told him I’d sit with you while he talked to the law.”

Doug is barely through the door when Merlin rushes in, face ashen.

“Arthur, are you all right?” Merlin grabs Arthur’s hand and squeezes it. “Oh, my God…I was so worried.”

“I’m okay. Merlin…what happened? How’d you get here?” Arthur tries to sit up, but Merlin pushes him back down, shaking his head.

“I don’t even know how I did it. I just---can we talk about that later? How do you feel?”

Arthur thinks about it. “Like someone bashed me upside the head with something.” He takes a deep breath. “Merlin, I only had two beers. I don’t know how I got so drunk.”

“You weren’t drunk,” Merlin tells him. “That fuck-head Wolff slipped something into your drink.”

“What?” Arthur doesn’t understand.

“A pill, Arthur. A date-rape pill. It made it so you couldn’t resist.”

Arthur can’t believe it; he was a victim. Again.

“What happened after you got there?” Arthur asks.

“I was about to go all ape-shit on Wolff when hotel security arrived.” Merlin leans close to Arthur. “They took him into custody. The police will investigate, but he drugged you, Arthur. He’s guilty as fuck.”

Merlin presses his forehead to Arthur’s, and something loosens in Arthur’s chest. “I’m so glad you’re all right. I knew something was wrong when Wolff answered your phone.”

Arthur nods, making Merlin nod with him. “I don’t remember a lot of what happened. I think we were having dinner down in the bar and then—suddenly I was in his room.”

Merlin runs his fingers through Arthur’s hair, and Arthur can’t help but close his eyes, it feels so good.

“It’s okay. The drug made you like that. The police will want to question you, but I’ll hold them off until you have a nap.” Arthur feels Merlin’s lips press to his head and then he’s asleep again.

 

 


End file.
